P.J. Morse - Clancy Parker 02 - Exile on Slain Street

by P. J. Morse

  I’d always been clued in about how the elimination would go. Every single elimination was a given, either predetermined by the producers or established when a contestant self-eliminated, a la Cookie. What was this surprise for? And was Patrick trying to tell me something?

  Then Patrick called Tina down. This strategy was classic — call down the ejectee, make her think she was going to get the clock/rose/widget/whatever, and then give her the boot. Or was he going to give me the boot? I didn’t have any producers on my side, so how was I going to know? I was a real competitor now.

  Tina held her head high as she glided down the carpet. Then I wondered what I would do if I got kicked out. Could I hide out in the woods to make sure no one else died? And would it be enough?

  Patrick took a breath.

  I took a breath.

  Even Tortoise took a breath.

  Tina just smiled.

  Then Patrick said, “Tina, you have some unfinished business, so this locket isn’t for you.”

  She hauled off and slapped him in the face. Greg was smiling. He must have told her she was safe to create this kind of reaction.

  As soon as the slap snapped Patrick’s head to the side, both Lorelai and Topaz jumped into the fray, racing all the way down the red carpet. In one fluid motion, Lorelai pinned Tina’s hands behind her back. So Tina started kicking, and Topaz wrapped her legs in a bear hug. “Stop making an ass of yourself!” she shouted.

  Then Wolf rushed in and said, “I’ll take her.”

  As Wolf dragged Tina away, she screamed at Greg, “I should have slept with Kevin, not you, loser!”

  Greg’s face turned red, not with embarrassment, but with rage. He’d always been competing with Kevin for Tina. Kevin was dead, and Greg was still losing.

  Then I looked at Lorelai and Topaz. Topaz was inspecting one of her gold-tipped nails, which had sustained damage in the fray. Lorelai folded her hands in front of her in an unusually ladylike fashion.

  I remembered what Wolf said when I tried to convince him that I was the detective. He said he hired someone. Someone, as in singular. Not two. I looked from one to the other. They both had the nosy personalities and willingness to mix it up that would make them perfect for detectives… or unusually clever killers. Which one of them was on my side?

  As for Greg, instead of engaging in a showdown with Tina, he manipulated the situation perfectly. The footage of Tina slapping Patrick was classic. It was destined to be in the promos, the previews and even the recaps. That kind of footage had the potential to end Tina’s career. Reality-show villains often wound up on other shows, but they rarely moved up the celebrity food chain.

  Greg’s maneuver was brilliant, it was passive-aggressive, and it was exactly the sort of thing Kevin’s killer would have done.

  Patrick stared at Lorelai and Topaz in admiration. “I could kiss both of you right now,” he said.

  “Why don’t you, then?” Topaz asked. She made it to him first, practically shoving Lorelai out of the way, but they both received equally long kisses. I tried to convince myself that the kissing was unsanitary and vulgar, and I didn’t like him anyway. But that was getting harder. It was getting harder to see anything that was in front of me anymore.

  After all the kissing, Patrick grabbed the last locket on the table. He held it out and dangled it toward me. Then he said, “I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I haven’t forgotten about you.”

  I walked up and stumbled slightly on my cowboy boots. With all the craziness and Greg’s focus on Tina, they didn’t ask me to reshoot it. I grabbed the locket and replied, “I have a long memory.”

  He kissed me, but I didn’t respond. He pulled away, surprised.

  “It must be fun being you,” I told him. “You can have anyone you want, all depending on your mood.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “It’s hard to keep the real and the fake separate. Can you do that?”

  He pushed the locket into my right hand and wrapped my fingers around it. “I want you to have this. It’s real, real, real.” He tapped my fist.

  When Greg directed me to join the other women, Topaz said quietly, “Drama, drama, drama.”

  Then Andi leaned over and whispered, “I don’t know what’s real anymore, either. It’s okay.” She sighed, and I patted her on the back.

  “Is anyone here sane?” Topaz asked.

  “Are you sure you’re sane?” I replied.

  She didn’t answer.

  After elimination, it was easy to sneak back upstairs. Greg didn’t even try to make us drink more. I stared out the window, where Patrick was frolicking in the pool with Lorelai and Topaz. At one point, he tried to pass from one to the other, and Topaz grabbed his left arm. Then Lorelai grabbed his right, and he was stuck between the two. Wolf was sitting in a pool chair, bellowing in laughter.

  If this supposed stalker didn’t kill Patrick, these women would tear him apart. And I was beginning to think he deserved it.

  I threw myself on the bed, not even bothering to shut off the light, and I stared at the Nuclear Kings poster that was hanging by what used to be Cookie’s bed. The poster was the same as the one that Muriel gave me. That seemed like such a long time ago.

  It’s one thing to stare at these posters when you’re a kid with a crush on a rock band. I used to listen to “Lemmings” over and over, and my love of that song froze the Nuclear Kings in time. It was hard to imagine anyone in the band living beyond that point. Then again, Sean Morgan didn’t have much longer to go after their biggest hit.

  Then I saw what I’d missed all along. I always imagined Sean Morgan as he was in that poster. He did actually live a few years after the peak of the band, before he drove the motorcycle off the cliff. By that time, I had long forgotten about the Nuclear Kings.

  But that didn’t mean Sean Morgan hadn’t lost weight and shaved his head before he died.

  I sat up. Sean Morgan resembled the man in the picture Muriel showed me.

  Even though I’d seen the poster every single day since I arrived, I looked at it closely for the first time. Sean was ahead of the other band members, and the light cast a shadow that fell across Patrick.

  The Patrick in the poster was smiling at me, and I smiled back, but not for long.

  Someone had scribbled out the whites of his eyes with a black pen, and a thin red line had been traced along his throat.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight:

  Parents’ Day

  I hadn’t intended to fall asleep. After what I saw on that poster, I planned to stay vigilant, but the sleep deprivation overwhelmed me. Someone shoved me in the shoulder, and I snapped awake. “Good morning, Topaz,” I grumbled. I didn’t need to open my eyes. Only she would get us up that way.

  “Parents’ Day,” she announced. “Clean yourself up.”

  I rolled out of bed. Finally, I had some news that put me in a good mood. Not all the shows had a Parents’ Day, probably because not all of them could afford the airfare. Of course, my parent wasn’t really my parent. I listed Harold as my parent on the application sheet, since he was more likely to play along with the show’s game than my actual parents.

  “When are they getting here?” I asked.

  But Topaz was gone. Lorelai and Andi were also gone — they were probably eating, drinking more alcohol or making some breakfast, with a side helping of product placement. I noticed an extra set of bags in our room. “Why’s Topaz’s stuff in here?” I asked.

  I didn’t expect anyone to answer, but Greg was tidying up some stuff on the bookshelf. Since I was so used to him shadowing our every move, I didn’t even notice him until he talked. “We’re moving her in here to increase the dramatic tension.”

  “Increase the dramatic tension? That’s bogus. There’s, like, an individual room for each of us.”

  Greg shrugged. “Look, Tina’s gone, and I’m going to make the most of this show now. I suggest you do the same. Patrick almost booted you last night.”

 
“That was his idea?” I asked, sitting up.

  Greg started making notes. “Do you really think we tell him what to do all the time? We’re not puppetmasters.”

  “We try to be puppetmasters,” Tortoise said, entering the room.

  “Yes, we try, but we can’t exactly tell the reason the show exists what to do.” Then Greg smiled. “He did agree with me to get rid of Tina.”

  “But what about Patrick? Did he tell you why he wanted to get rid of me?”

  “Wanted to give you a wake-up call, I guess,” Greg said. “So play nice with him. You don’t have to play nice with Topaz, though. In fact, I hope you don’t.”

  “Something tells me you’re the only one who will benefit from this new roommate situation.” I sighed.

  The phone rang, and Greg went away. I heard him talk about picking people up at the airport.

  Tortoise turned to me. “It was actually Topaz’s idea… moving in with you.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “She’s a fuckin’ genius. I think she should be producing these shows. She confronted Greg after the elimination and said that she wasn’t losing camera time now that Tina was gone.” He shut up real quick when Topaz came back in the room and started rooting through her makeup bag.

  Now that Topaz was in the room, she could either watch over the rest of us, if she were the second detective, or she could watch out for her competition, if she were the stalker. A real fucking genius.

  Once I gathered my things and got dressed, the parents began to arrive. The first parent to reach the set was Topaz’s mother. Wolf called out, “Topaz, your momma makes her entrance!”

  I had to see the person who helped create Topaz. I turned the corner and watched the scene from the top of the stairs. Topaz’s mother, whom Wolf called Deandra, was a smiling, plump woman with the widest smile I had ever seen. She was dressed simply, with a white T-shirt top with some ruffles on the sleeves and a plain black skirt, paired with sensible black flats. Her hair was braided and pulled back into a bun. I had no idea how Topaz, who was as bright and overdecorated as a Christmas tree, came from a woman like that. About the only thing Topaz shared with her mother was the same strong jawline.

  Once Topaz descended the stairs, Deandra grabbed her and held her back, beaming with pride. “Oh, honey! Look at you! And in this house!”

  “You like it, Momma?” Topaz asked.

  “Oh, yes!” Deandra looked around, and her eyes grew bigger as she took in the walls. “How could you not have fun here? The trees! The view! The pool!”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised,” Topaz sighed. “You gotta put up with some serious bullshit.”

  Deandra pulled back. Her eyebrows shot up. “Mouth! Manners!”

  “Sorry, Momma.” Topaz stood up straighter.

  I chuckled. Topaz saw me, looked up and glared at me as she started leading her mother to the back, so she could see the pool.

  At this point, Patrick entered from the bar and joined the shot. “Mrs. Wilton! A pleasure to see you! Obviously, you are the only one who can tame Topaz!”

  Deandra laughed. Her laugh was warm and joyful, and I realized I never heard Topaz sound happy. “I wish you luck!” she told Patrick.

  Topaz just twirled her hair and draped herself over Patrick, who grabbed her around the shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind this unusual courtship,” Patrick said.

  Deandra smiled. “In case you haven’t noticed, Topaz isn’t exactly the conventional type!”

  “Momma!”

  “Why don’t you take your mom to the pool and catch the view?” Patrick suggested. He guided them away, and Topaz gave me another look for good measure.

  The front door opened again with a new arrival. I ran to the top of the stairs, hoping I’d finally get to see Harold. Instead, I stopped midway to see a freewheeling hippie couple at the door. The dad was tall, with long, shaggy hair and a loose shirt that seemed to be made from a pair of old curtains. The mom had equally shaggy hair, plus granny glasses. She was in an orange caftan, and she liked swirling the fabric around.

  “Whee!” Andi scrambled from the back. Her heels clattered, and her ponytail bounced everywhere.

  Just as before, Patrick entered the frame on cue, as smooth as he was with Topaz’s mom. He was quite the actor. “Great to meet you!” He shook hands with Andi’s dad, and Andi’s mom hung a turquoise chain around his neck. She said, “It’s from the artist’s colony.”

  “Colony?” Patrick asked. “Wow — Andi, you never mentioned your parents were artists!”

  Andi just giggled while her Dad gave her a hug. “I grew up there. We’re, like, tight with nature.” She raised her right hand and crossed her index and middle fingers.

  I wondered how her family felt about her fake boobs but, given their go-with-the-flow style, they probably thought it was some sort of capitalist phase she was going through.

  Patrick led them back to the pool, and I headed downstairs to ask when my “dad” was going to show up. I passed by Greg, who was on a cell phone, and mouthed, “Where’s my dad?”

  Greg cupped his hand over the phone and told me, “Go out by the pool. It’s gonna be a while. What the hell do you mean, Fred, by ‘escaped’?”

  I wasn’t sure what that was all about, and I didn’t like the sound of it, but my only option was to wait. Since I stopped drinking the coffee, not to mention most everything else at the bar, after Fred conked out in North Beach, I popped open a can of Major Rager so I could caffeinate.

  The families were catching up by the pool. I noticed that Andi had dragged her parents to the edge of the woods, where they were probably having a fascinating chat with Muriel, Shane, or Wayne. Andi’s mom held her arms up in the air, as if she were ready to absorb some sort of communication from the woodland spirits. I hoped they wouldn’t mess with her too much.

  I sat down in my usual place at the patio table. Each family had its own camera crew, so I just dozed and thought about last night’s discovery. If I was right that the man in Muriel’s picture was the one and only Sean Morgan, then someone in the woods was interested in Sean Morgan, and someone else was defacing pictures of Patrick. Maybe it was the same person, who somehow connected Patrick to Sean’s death. I considered getting the gun from the last stair while the crew was distracted with everyone’s families.

  Then I heard a rustling in the bushes, along the side of the house, followed by panting, as if someone were getting in a good jog on the grounds.

  Harold suddenly burst through the hedge onto the back patio. He saw me and shouted, “Hooray! I found you!” Next thing I knew, he was smothering me in hugs. “Honey! I missed you!”

  I hugged him back, saying, “I am so sorry…”

  “You owe me!” he proclaimed in my ear. “These people are nuts!”

  Wolf stuck his head through the sliding glass door that led to the patio. “The elusive one has arrived! Tell Greg he can prod his quarry! Mic pack! Mic pack!”

  Harold asked me, “Did that big guy get hit in the head when he was a child, or something?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t ask. Sit down.” I fluffed up a chair cushion and guided Harold to a seat. He was still breathing hard. “Why are you out of breath?”

  Greg ran in. “Where were you, Mr. Cho? We were looking for you everywhere! Why did you run off? I gotta hook you up.”

  Harold took a moment to acknowledge him, showing Greg who was boss. “You gave me lines to say when I walked through the door, and I don’t do lines. I’m not an actor. This is my daughter, and I am going to talk to her how I want to talk to her. It’s too much!” He looked at me. “How on earth do you handle it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Greg began to put on the mic pack and clip the mic to Harold’s collar, but Harold wasn’t being cooperative. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and glared at Greg. “You’re bossy!”

  Greg still managed to get the pack on. “Great. Great. I got a parent who’s a diva. Nice. Great.” He
vanished into the house again.

  Meanwhile, Topaz was staring at Harold with interest. She looked at me, and then she looked at him. “Ain’t nobody around here’s Chinese. Who’s he?”

  I stood up. “He’s my dad!” I proclaimed.

  Insulted, Harold stood up. “I am Korean, young lady! Get it right next time!” He took a closer look at Topaz. Her weave was set back a little too far on her forehead, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. “What’s that on your head?”

  “Fuck you, old man,” Topaz responded. They were going to have to edit that out. Hare was already shaking his head by the camera.

  Topaz’s mother grabbed her by the arm and started speaking to her in a low, low voice. She wagged her finger, and I thought I heard her say, “If you act stupid, people will treat you like you’re stupid.”

  “It’s not my fault she has a bad weave,” Harold said. “FYI, I am in the know about hair these days.” He smoothed his own.

  He then turned around and noticed Tortoise and Hare, who were taping him eagerly. At that moment, he became an amazing actor. “I should explain my relationship with my daughter for the benefit of your viewers. When I was in the war,” he said, with such gravitas that it really didn’t matter what war he was talking about, “I became close to Katherine’s biological father. He was worried she wouldn’t have a daddy when it was over. And I swore I would look after her. And — ” he fake sobbed “ — when the grenade hit…”

  Hare looked at Tortoise. “Which war was that? Motherfucker is old.”

  “Just let it ride,” Tortoise said. “Who knows what these people talk about? A tip for the future: The parents are always weirder than the women.”

  Harold hugged me and fake-sobbed. Topaz’s mom walked over, reached out and touched him on the shoulder. “Oh, it’ll be all right. You’re a good man. And I wish I stood up to them when they made me rehearse. Rehearse? To see my own daughter?”

  He looked up, and once he saw Deandra’s smile, his face froze. He had worked up a few tears, and they glimmered in the sunlight. For one moment, I could imagine Harold in his youth, and he must have been a real heartbreaker.